


Keep Your Pants On

by LuckyWantsToKnow



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Facetime, Mutual Masturbation, Patrol, That about sums it up folks, Uniform Kink, smut ensues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 10:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16514855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyWantsToKnow/pseuds/LuckyWantsToKnow
Summary: Waverly calls Nicole during her graveyard shift. Her motivation isn't entirely selfish.





	Keep Your Pants On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wonderlust71](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlust71/gifts).



> Blame @wonderlust71 on Twitter for this smutty ficlet. She likes women in uniforms and FaceTime, so here we are.  
> As usual, thanks to @comelayinmybed for beta duties and naming my fic, and still being associated with me even after I keep writing this kind of stuff.

Graveyard patrol has got to have been named that because you die of boredom, Nicole thinks, as she rolls her head back and forth on the headrest and beats out a drum rhythm on her steering wheel in time to the tinny rendition of New Order’s ‘Age of Consent’ playing through her phone’s speaker. 

 

Her New Wave station is the only thing that keeps her from firing off rounds into the woods to stay awake. Well that and…

 

The music fades out as the phone rings, the screen lighting up with two heart emojis. FaceTime from Waves. Nicole smiles and purses her lips, running her hands quickly through her hair before she presses the button to answer the call. 

 

“Hey baby,” Nicole purrs into the phone, then frowns, looking hard at the screen, which is completely black. She can hear the sound of movement, however, so she knows that someone is there. 

 

“Waves?” she asks.

 

“Hold on a minute baby, I’m in the closet,” comes Waverly’s voice, and it’s cheerful enough that Nicole can relax. It’s not a demon abduction or a phone call from an exorcism in progress, or some other wackadoodle Purgatory bullshit. And “in the closet” often means…

 

Her view on the screen goes bright, fumbling over to reveal a quick flash of the closet door, then Waverly’s dresser, decorated with lit candles, then finally with a bounce onto her bed, Waverly turns the phone around so Nicole can see her. Fairy lights adorn the headboard behind her, casting an ethereal glow over Waverly’s body. 

 

“Jesus, babe,” Nicole manages, nearly dropping her own phone in the process. Waverly’s wearing…

 

“Do you like it?” Waverly asks innocently. “I was going to save it for your birthday but I can’t wait that long.” Waverly leans over to her nightstand, affording Nicole a nice view of her breasts through the peek-a-boo babydoll chemise she’s wearing. 

 

“I also got this,” she announces brightly, and she’s showing off a sleek aluminum cell phone stand. “Business Insider said it’s one of the top five iPhone stands on the market.”

 

“Waves…” Nicole tries again. “The...uh...phone stand is great. But baby, that outfit! I wish I could see it in person.” Nicole pouts into the phone and Waverly taps at her screen as if to tease Nicole’s pooched out lower lip.

 

“My poor baby,” Waverly teases, “is your night shift super boring?”

 

“There’s absolutely nothing to do,” Nicole whines. “I oughta make you entertain me.”

 

Waverly hums and shrugs, setting the phone on the new stand so her hands are free. She runs them up her body and through her hair, and it’s suddenly crystal clear to Nicole that she’s been set up. 

 

“Yeah?” she asks casually. “What exactly would you have me do?”

 

There’s a tone in Waverly’s voice that Nicole’s very familiar with, and she feels a small thrill of excitement. Instinctively she looks around her, but there’s nothing but open field on one side and forest on the other, where she sits out on Highway 16. 

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nicole says, looking thoughtful. “You’re probably cold so I’d wrap you up in a nice blanket and maybe put on my thickest flannel pajamas and go make us cocoa. Then you could fall asleep while I look at travel trailers on the laptop.”

 

“Don’t tease, Nicole,” Waverly says warningly. “I can assure you that I am not cold right now at all.” And with that she runs her hand right into the front of the string bikini that’s just revealed when the skirt of her tiny outfit rides up. 

 

“Unless you want to look at those travel trailers on your phone?” Waverly lies back and crosses one toned leg over the other. She bites her lip and points a finger at the screen.  “I can let you go?”

 

“No, no, no,” Nicole concedes hastily. “Babe, come on…”

 

Waverly rolls over and slides up onto her knees, and Nicole can see her abs flexing through the sheer material.. “I don’t want to think this is going to waste…”

 

“God baby you look so good,” Nicole says. “If I were there I would start by letting you take off my uniform. I’d take off my duty belt and you’d touch my arms the way you do when I do that. You’d be standing in front of me in that lingerie and it would be all I could do to not push you right up against the door.”

 

Waverly makes a soft sound, but Nicole’s keen ears pick up on it. “What’s that baby?” she asks, her grin a little feral this time.

 

“Tell me what we would do next,” Waverly pleads, leaning in. 

 

“You’re gonna slowly unbutton my shirt; I want you to take it off of me.”

 

Waverly’s so close to the screen now that Nicole can hear her breath hitch, and takes in her hooded eyes. 

 

“What are you doing baby? You’re not getting ahead of me are you? Impatient.” 

 

“No, Nicole. Tell me what you’re wearing under your shirt when I take it off.” She thinks about Nicole in a tight athletic compression bra, or a white undershirt, or maybe…

 

Nicole props her phone awkwardly on the steering wheel and leans in, momentarily interrupting her train of thought. “Do you wanna see?”

 

Waverly nods eagerly, her hands roaming almost unconsciously over her own stomach and thighs. She watches as Nicole unclips her paddle mic and drops it in her lap, then slowly unbuttons her police blouse to reveal a heather blue cotton Victoria’s Secret tee shirt bra. 

 

It shouldn’t be the sexiest thing Waverly’s ever seen Nicole in, because she’s seen her in all sorts of hot-as-fuck combinations, but there’s something about Nicole in the shadowy patrol car, the police radio occasionally mumbling in the background as various equipment lights flash periodically against her skin. Waverly can just make out the pistol grip of the shotgun secured between the front seats, and her girlfriend’s elbow brushes against it as her long arms pull open her steel blue shirt. 

 

Just the fact of them not being able to touch each other is so fucking intimate, and that soft sexy cotton bra just pushes Waverly closer to the edge. 

 

“I can feel how soft that bra is under my hands,” she says, and her eyes slide closed as she cups her own breasts through the chemise. “I just want to run my hands down your stomach, I love it when I can feel you trembling under me.”

 

Nicole shivers a little in the car, but she’s not cold. 

 

“You know, baby,” Waverly looks mischievous, “my face fits right against that bra. Mmmmm it feels soft on my cheek.”

 

Nicole makes a choking sound and her hand slides down to her lap. Her black 5.11 Stryke pants are supposed to be designed for comfort and mobility, but they’re suddenly feeling awfully constrictive in the car. 

 

“I’m thinking about how much I love the sound of your belt opening,” Waverly says. “It always makes me wet…”

 

Before she realizes what she’s doing, Nicole’s unclipped the buckle on her duty belt and let it fall loose around her. She’s holding her underbelt buckle in one hand when she says, “Waverly, look at me.”

 

Waverly’s eyes pop open, a little glazed looking.

 

“Is this what you mean?” Nicole asks, and she pulls the belt open one handed, the metallic roller echoing against the prong. Nicole looks meaningfully at the screen. She’s got to get this under control. 

 

“Yes, Nicole,” Waverly answers, maintaining eye contact, and Nicole’s control immediately falters, yet somehow she forges onward.

 

“You got my belt open darlin’,” her voice infused with a little southern honey, “and I want you to imagine me lifting off that nightgown. You look so sexy in those panties, I just want to get on my knees in front of you.”

 

Waverly’s still on her knees when she lifts the babydoll nightie quickly over her head. Her breasts spring free, the nipples hardening visibly in the semi-dark room. The black scrap of fabric that makes up the string bikini disappears between her strong thighs, and Nicole feels a gush of heat between her own legs. 

 

Waverly slips her hand back down the front of the panties. Nicole can see the outline of her two fingers working against herself, and her other hand slides up to pinch and tease at a nipple. She wishes that goddamn phone screen was just a little bigger though, because she can’t see Waverly’s whole face. 

 

“Mmm baby,” Waverly says, “I can feel how hot your mouth is through my panties. Are your hands on my hips?”

 

Nicole throws her head back against the headrest and closes her eyes.  _ Fuck this patrol nonsense _ she thinks, but she’s a professional so she takes a minute.

 

“Babe...don’t. move. a. muscle.”

 

She quickly picks up her paddle mic and calls in, “Haught here, I’m gonna take my lunch break.” 

 

“Copy Haught,” the radio squawks back, and Nicole sees Waverly’s mouth quirk up in a smile.

 

Always so responsible,  _ Haught _ ,” Waverly teases. “I love the way you always take care of business.”

 

“Baby,” Nicole growls, “I can almost taste you. I’m gonna put my fingers in those strings and pull those panties down now. Can you feel my tongue on your thigh? God your ass feels so good in my hands.”

 

Waverly whimpers and hooks her thumbs into the strings of her bikini, and Nicole can see her trembling, even through the 4” screen. 

 

“Take them off,” she orders, “just down to your knees.” 

 

Nicole presses against her own crotch through the heavy material of her pants, seeking some relief from the tension that’s building there. Waverly moves and she’s quickly rewarded by the sight of Waverly’s spread thighs, the underwear stretched between her knees, and Nicole thinks she can see a glistening wetness between them. She moans breathily. 

 

“Can you…?” Waverly asks.

 

“Together.” Nicole replies.

 

“I want you to keep your pants on,” says Waverly, and of course Nicole has to anyway, but she continues, “I love it when you want me so bad that you don’t take the time to take them off.” 

 

Her hand slides back between her thighs and Nicole watches as her middle finger slides in deeply, curling in and out. 

 

Nicole slides her zipper down and slips her own hand down the front of her pants, the buckle cold against her wrist. Her fingertips are cold when she touches herself, and she pulls them back out, sliding them into her mouth to warm them. Waverly gasps as the sight. 

 

“Baby, you don’t know what that does to me. I wish it was your hand fucking me.”

 

“If I was there I would want to taste your nipples. I can see them baby, they look so hard right now. I’d run my tongue around them and suck them hard. You like it when I do that...you always make the prettiest noises when I suck your nipples hard.” Nicole curls her tongue in her mouth, imagining Waverly’s dark nipples pebbled against it. 

 

Waverly’s breathing is increasing; Nicole can hear her panting through the tiny speaker, and her own fingers are coated with slickness now. She runs a fingertip over her own clit and says, “Waves….mmmm….my clit feels so good. I wish it was your clit I was touching. I’d slide my fingers into you and suck your clit into my mouth. You always taste so good to me. I’d use my tongue to just tease it, baby...how many fingers do you want?”

 

“Oh god,” Waverly exclaims, “you fuck me so well Nicole!” Nicole watches as Waverly’s fingers thrust in and out of herself. She’s trembling hard now on her knees, the hand that isn’t thrusting into herself occupying it by stroking her own torso, pinching a nipple or pushing through honey-gold hair. 

 

_ This goddamn car _ , Nicole thinks, as she stretches her legs as far as she can in the cramped driver’s seat, and slips two fingers on either side of her clit, squeezing it in the V of her fingers as she presses against her opening, and she can almost forget she’s on graveyard patrol in the middle of nowhere in a Crown Vic because  _ Jesus H. Christ, _ Waverly Earp is fucking herself on her phone screen and Nicole feels herself start to clench hard. 

 

“Shit, Waves,” she grits, her eyes wanting to squeeze shut but not lose the vision on her screen, “I’m gonna come…”

 

Waverly throws her hand behind her to brace herself and her head falls back as she presses her hand hard and deep into herself with a low groan, “Ni-cole,” she gasps out brokenly. Nicole can see the muscles in her forearm flexing and practically hear the wetness when Waverly pulls out of herself. 

 

Waverly paints her fingers across her own abdomen, damp streaks glistening briefly in the candle lit room, and smiles into the camera at Nicole. Nicole pulls her hand out of her pants and sucks her fingers into her mouth, and Waverly’s smile falters briefly as lust slides across her eyes once more. 

 

“Mmmm, baby, you make me feel so good,” Nicole hums. The both stare at each other for a few moments, their breathing returning to normal, when Waverly taps her phone screen again. 

 

“Think your lunch break is over, baby. I can’t wait to see you in three hours, Nicole. Keep your pants on.”

 

With a smirk, Waverly blows her a kiss and hangs up. 


End file.
